Charles Barkley - The Story Continues

ESPN is running a story about Charles Barkley being accused of assault at a nightclub in Jersey called 32 Degrees. While I have no real opinion of that, believing heavily in Innocent Until Proven Guilty (OK, maybe not with Kobe, but you get the idea), it does give me a chance to tell a story that I've passed on occasionally ever since, and that can now live forever on the World Wide Web. Yes it's true - I have my own Charles Barkley Experience.

Now don't hold me to all of this as fact, because it's a distant memory, kind of like all of these people trying to argue about Kerry's Rumble In The Jungle, as if we can all remember in great detail about an event we considered trivial forty years ago. But I swear this is how I remember it, truth be damned.

It was an exhibition game with the Celtics in Boston. I was in Oregon during the 1986 and 87 exhibitions, so I'm guessing it was the following season, 88-89. I had great seats as I always did, courtesy of my Dad, 7 rows from the Celtics bench, right behind the player's wives and Bob Cousy. Anyway, somewhere in the third quarter, something happened on the court that pissed Charles off, and the crowd got all over him for it. I don't know who said it or what was said, but someone did something to make Charles look up into the balcony, and give everyone the finger.

Well, that just sets the place ablaze, and Charles gets a technical foul. He's all upset, and I don't know if he leaves the game or not, but he never settles down. This where I come in.

I'm only seven rows from the court, for chrissakes. It's my RESPONSIBLITY to respond. I mean, he can't just get away with treating Celtics fans like that. And I was loaded with courage, and Bud, and whatever they'd been serving in Halftime and Charlie's Tap that night. I had to do something. A few minutes later, I got my chance.

There was a foul down the other end of the floor. Everyone lined up at the foul line down there, except for Barkley, who was the lone man back. He stood there with hands on his knees at the foul line, totally unsuspecting.

I knew this was my opportunity. He was standing right in front of me, and with the crowd silent due to the rather insignificant free throws, I rose from my seat. Then, in the largest voice I could summon, I yelled . . .

BARKLEY, YOU (favorite expletive here)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone sitting between me and Charles turned around to look to see who the big jerk was, and I could see Charles, hands still on knees, slowly turn his head, so that he was staring straight at me.

For a split second, anything was possible. Charles had that glare in his eyes,and that history of just going off, and there he was, all of the possibilities surging quickly through his mind, calculating the cost to him of charging into the crowd and pummeling me within an inch of my life.

In the end, he refrained. The crowd turned around, and Charles' head got back into the game. Not completely though, as on the next trip down the court, Barkley slammed into some Celtic on a rebound attempt, getting himself into serious enough foul trouble that he was pulled from the game to a chorus of boos. I laughed and laughed, knowing I had somehow contributed to this vital Celtics exhibition victory.

No, I don't come out of this looking so good either, but hey it's a good story. If I ever meet Charles, I'll buy him a beer and tell him about it, and maybe he'll laugh, too.